The 70th Hunger Games - Annie's Games
by may.v.odds.b.eva.in.ur.favour
Summary: Left traumatised any only at peace with the presence of Finnick Odair, the story behind Annie Cresta has remained a mystery. Up until now. Reaped for the 70th Hunger Games as a Career. Came out as a victim. Follow the story of everything that happened in between. SUZANNE COLLINS OWNS THE HUNGER GAMES.
1. Chapter 1 - Reaping Day

**Hi guys! I really appreciate you reading this – my first ever fanfiction! I'm an English thirteen year old and really hope that everything here is correct, however it is all in my opinion of what happened so please no "that didn't happen!" rubbish. Also may I add that this is English spelling (not the American way). I must admit that I am very busy school girl and may find it hard to update on a regular basis but will never abandon this fanfic without notice! I will have to warn you that some scenes are violent, but I will warn you when any one those pop up! Thank you, and all reviews are much appreciated. Enjoy!**

My name is Annie Cresta. I am sixteen and a half. I live in District 4, Zone A.

District 4 is a pretty, quaint district. It is surrounded by water. There are many beaches but few sandy ones (they're all pebble). From any point here you can see the sea, hear it crashing against the paint white cliffes and the seagulls cry out all day and night, even in the most inland part of the district. It's probably the nicest area of Panem. Much better than the Capitol, which would be lovely if only the wigs and make up didn't exist.

My whole life I have been brought up in a Hunger Games adoring family. Myself and my two elder brothers have been training since we were old enough – so seven – at the District 4 Academy For The Training Of Victors. It's hard work but we all love it. It's great; not only does it completely prepare you physically for The Hunger Games but it also teaches you great life skills such as what food is poisonous, how to light fires and other stuff like that. The trainers are great and sometimes past District 4 victors come in to show us how to fight.

We have had many victors here in District 4, the most famous being the Capitol daydream, Finnick Odair. I don't have a crush on him or practically stalk him until peacekeepers threaten to kill me, however I must admit he is an excellent fighter. He can use any weapon in any way and kill someone with it in less than a minute. He is what makes District 4 famous. Not Mags, or Sirian, or Francesca or anyone as amazing as they all are. For he is the youngest and most handsome victor to date. Do I like him? Of course not! I stalked his every move a couple of years back but gave that up ages ago, especially since I couldn't get into the Victor's Village without the risk of peacekeepers shooting me like they do with everyone here who does something wrong. Did I mention peacekeepers? Don't think so, but you really need to know that they are weird men with funny walks and pathetic white uniforms who'll do anything from half kill you to kill you. I've heard that some districts have completely laid-back peacekeepers who do illegal things themselves, but the ones in Four aren't a little thing like that. They expect all of us to act like they want us too, but obviously that's not even possible. We want to be free from all of this cruelty. We have to rebel against them for that ultimate, much-wanted freedom. Life may be fine in District Four – we get enough food and water, and the jobs are decent – but it's just not good enough.

And as I look out of the window of my bedroom early this morning I spy more and more of these monsters coming in on their trucks. I want to cry, seeing them all control us, but I refuse to. For today is Reaping Day, and what happens depends entirely on the behaviour of others.


	2. Chapter 2 - And May The Family Continue

**Welcome welcome welcome (I sound like Effie here) to the second chapter of this fanfiction. Hope you enjoy it and please review!**

**Also please take note that some chapters will be longer than others depending on what's going on in the story at the time – e.g. if there is lots of action coming up I will generally write a shorter chapter first then another one. It also depends on how busy I am at school – I have loads of information evenings at the moment and am having loads of exams.**

It's tense in my house today. Very tense. At breakfast we barely talk – usually my brothers and I always chat about school or general life, joke about peacekeepers and Capitol people, discuss fighting techniques and debate about what weapons and skills are most important for survival. But today, we don't even chat. I have two brothers – Niall and Jack – who are both eighteen. They're twins but aren't at all similar in any way: Niall has chocolate brown hair and Jack's is hazel; Niall is vicious and an expert hand-to-hand combat whereas Jack has much more stamina and can shoot arrow whilst sprinting at full speed through a forest and _still _end up with a perfect kill; Niall is very outgoing but Jack is quieter, _much_ quieter. But I love them both as much as eachother and they're my brothers, no matter how different we all are. I, personally, prefer knife throwing and archery than hand-to-hand combat with spears and swords. I am a short-distance sprinter just like Niall (I can't run any further than a mile before stopping). My hair is a dark red, exactly like the colour of a squirrel. All three of us have the same sea green eyes though, and the same face.

The Reaping starts at half two in the afternoon, giving us in Zone A a chance to spend the morning with family (every public place here is closed today so we have no chance to fit in some last minute training should we be planning on volunteering or just seeing if we'll be picked anyway, and we can't go shopping) however we like, as long as it's legal to do so especially with the whole district packed with peacekeepers, cameras and Capitol people. I tend to start getting ready at eleven or so, then have a bit of lunch and then off to the square it is. Better to be early than late – I don't want to be queuing up for forever, thank you very much. When you are late, the peacekeepers and Capitol people start to get very stressy and rough with you, which, from what I have heard, is not the nicest thing ever. All the outer district's kids will be arriving late after what probably is a long walk to the main square. They might actually be walking here as we speak. I am very grateful that my house is only half a mile or so to the square, so I have plenty of time.

District Four, being one of the richer districts, has a reputation for the richest kids (especially the girls over sixteen) coming to the Reaping dressed in the most expensive clothing. Glittery dresses, high heels, long silky skirts, plenty of makeup and perfectly kept hair are not too rare, even if they aren't as commonly worn as they are in District One, the richest district of all when you don't include the Capitol as a district (as it isn't really a district, more of a city). I come from a pretty rich family – well, we have a bigger-than-average sized house and have more money and food than we need – but don't wear the glamourous costumes and incredible accessories. A shirt and skirt or some pretty dress will suit me fine. I don't need makeup and my hair will look just as nice in a plait than a bun. The same is with my brothers – obviously they don't wear skirts or dresses, but they don't dress in expensive suits either – who will just wear some nice-looking trousers and a shirt. No ties, unlike every other boy in the district. Today I am wearing one of my mother's old dresses. My mum died last spring due to an illness, so I inherited all of her clothes and jewellary. This dress is my favourite – it's a beautiful shade of blue with a white floral pattern. It's quite tightly fitted around the top but short and flowy at the bottom. I'm also wearing some white leather pump shoes and a silver necklace and turquoise earrings. I stare at myself in the mirror, barely believing that this is what my mum wore to her fourth Reaping, the year of the 50th Hunger Games and second Quarter Quell where double the amount of tributes than usual were fighting for the prize. I can imagine her in it, with her dark brown hair and matching eyes. She used to tell me about when she was younger and how the games were like then, how they weren't as well planned out as the games we have now and that arenas were smaller and the mutts weren't outstanding. She enrolled me in the training academy, the same one that she went to when she was young, and would help me with my theory work. Then, last year, everything changed. District Four had an outbreak of a disease, and thousands of residents were infected. I was one of the lucky ones not to become ill, but my mum got a more severe version and died in less than a week. The disease was unknown and we had no clue what it was caused by and only knew that it could be deadly even though loads of people who became ill weren't any worse for wear.

I could've died with embarressment as I walked down the stairs to the living room of my home. My dad, my brothers, even the dog were staring at me. I could see that my dad, as tough and strong an ex-Career as he was, had a tear in his eye. It was strange – my dad never cries. Even when mum died he wasn't too bad, even though he probably cried away out of our sight when we were at school or in bed or just out. My brothers are staring at me. I feel awkward. Niall's jaw's dropped, eyes fixed on me. Jack is pretending to be stroking Wolfi, but he is staring at me too.

Urgh, I hate getting attention.

Then the worst thing ever happens. They clap. I don't want applause, thank you very much. I am in my mum's favourite dress, get over it. It's nothing special. It's just a twenty-year-old Reaping dress. And I don't look like mum. Go away.

My dad comes over to me and embraces me in his arms. I stand there, not really wanting to be hugged but not wanting to pull away either. He says I look great. I look normal. He says I'd be a great victor. I don't have any plans on volunteering or going into the games, not this year anyway, and especially not winning. I'm ok at fighting and I know what's safe to eat and what's not safe to eat, but knowing me putting too much trust in everyone I meet (except peacekeepers, obviously) I would probably be killed in my sleep or turned on behind my back. My dad compliments me more and more, for over fifteen minutes at least, until I get bored of it and am barely listening to anything he says. I am so grateful to Jack for pulling us apart.

"It's midday," he says. "We'd better go to the square before it gets busy." I breathe a long, loud sigh of relief that I am no longer being babied by my dad. Thank god. Enough is enough. I rush into the kitchen and grab a tuna sandwich. If I'm am going to the Capitol after all then I might as well make use of the District 4 tuna.

And then I walk out the door.


	3. Chapter 3 - Boys

**Sorry for not posting as many chapters recently – I've been busy! Thank you for all reading so far! This one's a bit shorter, I apologise, but it has some speech in at long last! Please keep reading! Now if we could just get a few more readers and reviews...**

**I do not own "The Hunger Games".**

It always feels odd to me on Reaping Day; it's so quiet and there is so little action until the actual Reaping itself. No one is out and about. Not a single shop in sight has an open window. Even the seagulls are keeping themselves to themselves. Perhaps they're scared of peacekeepers as much as we are, that they'll shoot them or something.

It'll get busier later. It's always quiet at this time of Reaping Day, in Zone A anyway. The rest of the teens come out of their houses much later on, which is fine with me as it means I don't have to queue up to be registered for an hour. If it's like it was last year then I'll be waiting for five minutes at the most. The longest I've waited there is ten minutes. But then again, you have to wait in the square for an awful long time.

I walk up the uneven cobble stone steps once again. There are several tables set up, each with a rope separating them and a white-clothed Capitol person behind, most of them flicking through the papers and looking bored and hot. Don't really blame them – standing there in one of Panem's warmest districts (according to my georgaphy teacher) for hours on end can't be too exciting, especially in those white skin-tight "costumes". Other than them, the dozens of peacekeepers and an elderly couple standing in the distance, we are the only ones here. I groan, remembering the finger-prick I have to go through every year as your registration. It doesn't hurt _loads_, but your finger just bleeds for ages and you can't really do anything with it unless you want to get a huge blood stain down your reaping clothes. They don't give you anything to staunch the blood flow (as small as it is), which is just a right pain.

And I forgot to bring the tissues for the fourth year running.

I stride up to one of the desks with a dark-haired, plainly-dressed, peacekeeper-looking Capitol woman. She rolls her eyes – I've never seen her before, but she looks quite old (unless that's due to the plastic surgery and she's actually twenty or something like that) so I assume that she's done this in other districts. She doesn't speak – she doesn't really have to speak, as I give her my index finger for her to puncture straight away without a doubt – and is gentler than that grumpy old woman last year who practically stabbed me and then twisted my finger whilst stamping it on the piece of paper. I breathe a sigh of relief as I walk off through the black rope and into the square where I stand with Niall. I look over at Jack, who's registrator isn't quite as gentle judging from the grim look on his face.

"Are you volunteering this year?" I ask Niall as we stand there. He shrugs, keeping a straight face.

"Possibly," he replies bluntly. "Well, I'm eighteen and I've been training for forever, so why not?"

I don't know it that's a yes or a no. Jack joins us. He'll be complaining about the registration, that's for sure.

"And you?" I ask him, just like I did with Niall. "You volunteering?"

"Are you?" he asks me. He's so good at dodging questions, especially ones like these about volunteering.

"Probably not," I reply. I don't really want to volunteer, not yet anyway. I search my brain for a good excuse which doesn't make me look afraid of dying in front of my brothers, even if it does make me look like I enjoy school, which I don't. "I'm just sixteen and might as well make the most of my last two years in education. Don't want to come out victor and be so busy with victory tours and victor life that I can't finish them off. Anyway, if you do become victor then you can't go to training anymore - And you might as well take what's free 'round here. Don't know how long it will last – prices are rising every week." Luckily, they seem to believe me.

"I don't know whether I'll volunteer or not," Niall continues. "I've done all the training I need and would really like to go into that arena and show off my skills. It would be great to live in one of those fancy mansions in the victor's village, of course, next door to Finnick Odair." It takes a while for me to realise that he was supposedly teasing me, since I used to be Finnick-mad.

"Haha," I say sarcastically. Honestly, I really don't find that funny anymore. He's a person, just like us – even if he is a Capitol daydream and I'm not – so it's really not very interesting, all these jokes they taunt me with, anymore. "That's not funny anymore. I thought you'd have realised by now."

"Awwww, come on Annie, you used to be obsessed!" Niall teases. "It's all you ever used to talk about. Finnick, Finnick, Finn-" I slap him. He rubs his cheek, mouth wide. I smile sweetly at him.

"When I was eleven! I didn't know any better!"

"She says..." Niall mutters under his breath.

"I don't like him anymore!" I reject. "In fact, I hate him now."

"Yeah, right," Niall says mockingly.

Boys...


	4. Chapter 4 - The Reaping

**I'm so sorry about not doing anything for a long time... I've just been so busy recently. I doubt you want to hear me go on about homework and school so that is all I will say for now!**

**OK... not all I will say then. I had a random idea just now. I decided to do a I-don't-really-know-what-to-call-this-thing. Anyway, the question is how did Annie's brothers, Niall and Jack get their names. When I get five right answers then I will say the answer! To simply have a go then use the clever little review thingy and type it in there! Oh yeah, I'm going to give you a clue. THINK what is District Four's industry and that may lead you somewhere...**

**Anyway, enjoy this chapter – it's the reaping now!**

Over the next few hours the square fills up with people and soon it's packed. Now 2.20pm, I stand in the "Reaping crowd". I'm in the sixteen-year-old girls' section, just past midway up the square. It's quite hot now, and I can see that the girl stood next to me (who I don't know) is sweltering under that close-fitting turquoise dress she wears. She's gone bright red in the face and is sweating. Lovely, I think, as I stand smugly in mum's light reaping dress. Lets just hope that she doesn't get too close.

I turn to look for Niall or Jack, but they're well hidden at the back and I can't see over the taller girls. I'm about average-sized for myself, but there are some really tall girls around here. Niall and Jack aren't incredibly tall either and they are wearing plain-coloured clothes, so they wouldn't stand out anyway. In ten minutes the Reaping will start, I don't think that there's too many more people to be registered, judging from how many kids are stood around here already. Twenty, if that. The sweating girl looks bored. I'm guessing she's from a different zone – C or D – as I haven't ever seen her around before. She's on my right. The girl on my left is a neighbour; Cassidy White. She lives on the next street and I see her around quite a bit. We don't talk too often and she's in a different class to me at school. I don't think she trains, judging from the scared-to-death "District 12" expression on her face. We sometimes chat, but only once in a while when we have nothing better to do. Her family aren't in the best of state at the moment, from what I've heard; her father was killed in a fishing accident two months ago and apparently her mother hasn't taken his death too well. She's probably asked for terresae some point in life, resulting in her name in the glass bowl more times than needed. Not the case for most of the people who live here – District 4's one of the richest districts in Panem so it's not required a tenth as much here as it is in the outskirt districts. Thank god for that.

I look around, guessing who'll volunteer first. There's a few worthy contestants from what I can see, and it's pretty obvious that one of my brothers will be in the list. Depends who volunteers first and who gets reaped. I can barely wait. Actually, I don't have to wait anymore as I can hear the click-clack of stilettos on concrete. I look up at the stage – what I can see of the stage behind the number of heads in my way, anyway – to see that the reaping has started. Behind the polished silver microphone stands Libby Frosté, our Capitol escort. She's over the top, to say the least. She likes to match her clothing with our districty industry – fishing – so dresses in blue. I don't know whether she's complimenting or insulting ourselves and our home. It could be a compliment – she could be saying "District 4 is so fashionable, don't you think?" - or she could be saying that we need more colour in our lives, which we can't really do with since despite the fact that we're fairly well off we're not made of money. This year she's chosen a royal blue colour – her straight black hair has blue highlights, she wears a pair of leather black leggings and a tight royal blue tunic top with a black belt and huge gold buckle. She looks like a doll – fake and ugly – and it hurts my eyes to look at her.

"Welcome District 4," her voice is twice as annoying as herself – all high pitched, making her sound excited all the time, or just very angry at something. "We have gathered here today in this District to commemorate seventy years of the Hunger Games. It is all very exciting, I know I know I know! Now, before we start with the actual reaping ceremony, we have a very special video which we like to watch." - actually, we don't like to watch this video - "It has come right from the Capitol and the quality is amazing. It tells you everything you need to know about why we have these tremendous little games, and it's very, very, _very_ educational." That's what annoys me – why does she think we go to school?! To mess around? No! The video plays on. I exchange looks of boredom with everyone around me (everyone around me is so I might as well join in!). Libby looks engrossed in the bad-quality video, and I can't really see what makes it so interesting. Three minute long, thank goodness it's no longer or I would probably die under the sweltering heat due to dehydration. How stupid is that?! District 4, the land of water, water, water, and I die of dehydration. Ironic.

Libby claps as the video comes to it's end, and I feel like clapping too. Not because it was such a "great" video – it wasn't – but because I'm so glad that it's over. And now it's time for the actual, _proper_ reaping.

"And now it's time for us to choose our female and male tribute for this year's games," she chirps happily. I roll my eyes and fiddle with my hair. It's not _that_ exciting. Libby walks as delicately as she can over to the glass ball of my side. It's full of name. She picks one out and opens it up. She pulls a fake smile of happiness. I'm just surprised that no-one has volunteered yet.

"Annie Cresta," she says cheerfully with that horrendous Capitol accent of hers. It's me. I'm in the games. I feel shocked. I'm not scared – at least I don't _think _I'm scared – but I don't feel... actually, I don't know how I feel. I've been training for this moment for many, many years, and now I'm going into the arena... wow! I'm going to the land of crazy wigs. I'm going to be able to fight in a real situation where my life is in the hands of myself. Freedom. Independance. Alliance. Bravery. _Victory._ Hundreds of thousands of words pop into my head all at once. I'm _overwhelmed_ – I smile for the cameras and step out to the centre aisle of the square. I don't need much encouragement. Quite a few kids clap, some cheer, some don't do anything. I make my way up and onto the stage. I still can't get over it; I'm going into the arena! How _should_ I feel? Like I'm going to be first to die and will never, _ever_ see my family and my district again, or like I'm going to take this on like it's no big deal?

I stand beside Libby and shake her hand. She stinks of perfume – urgh.

"And now it's time to choose our male tribute!" she explains to the rest of the crowd like they're all babies and have never experienced a reaping before. She barely makes it to the glass bowl before there's a volunteer. A tall, muscular lad aged around eighteen or so strides down the centre and onto the stage. I shake his hand, as does Libby. His hands are large; obviously a combat fighter, unlike myself, a knife thrower. He has too inhaled the horrific stench of the perfume, I can tell due to his unimpressed facial expression.

"What it's your name?" Libby questions him.

"Skye Jackman," he tells her proudly. "I'm eighteen." Libby smiles and nods.

"Our two District 4 victors!" she says like a proud mother would. Then it hits me; I'm going to have to put up with that stink of roses for another ten days. Great. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour. From the Capitol, goodbye!"

I get herded into the Justice building by peacekeepers along with Skye and Libby, and then shut in a large and luxuriously furnished room.


	5. Chapter 5 - New Friends & Last Moments

**Sorry again for not writing anything for a while – I've been quite busy! Please review and enjoy!**

The room I get taken into is very luxurious – just about everything is a deep royal blue, and everything else is gold. The settee in the centre of the room is so plush that I almost sink into it. I don't really know whether I want to sink into it entirely. I've going to the Capitol! But to prepare to die. I will go into the Hunger Games! But I probably will die. I'll get to kill people! But people will be aiming to kill me. I'll need allies if my chances of surviving the games will get any more hopeful. Skye looks quite nice, but, then again, he is also a _volunteer_. He had a reason to volunteer, which is probably to become District 4's victor, so he must be good. But I need to trust him first. Trust is what makes an alliance safe as can be, especially a Career alliance. What will the other Careers be like? Strong? Most likely. Reckless? Probably. Blood thirsty? They usually are – especially that weird psychopath woman from District 2 who ripped someones throat out a couple of games ago. I try to get rid of all of those hopeless-for-me-I-won't-win-because-I'll-get-killed-by-my-own-allies thoughts. You never know: I might win. I know I can fight, but fighting a real person in a real life situation will be harder. I've never injured anyone, if you exclude that time where I cut someone's hand with my knife by accident at training. I've never killed someone. If I do kill, the victims of my work have families which will deteste me. But killing is all part of the games. I can't do anything now. I'm in. I'm going into that arena.

My thoughts are ripped from my head as there is a loud bang of the door being opened. I spin around. There stands a peacekeeper, dressed in white... actually, come to think of it, why are they dressed in white? Because our president is called President Snow, and snow is white. If our president was called President Sea, would the peacekeepers where blue uniform instead? Just a random thought... anyway, a peacekeeper is stood at the door alongside my family. My dad, Niall and Jack, are all stood there beside him.

"You have five minutes," the weird Capitol man bellows at me. I nod quickly, catching is eye. He nods slowly at me, which I find kind of creepy, and then he slams the door behind them. I run over to my siblings and only parent.

"Annie..." my dad starts. He is interrupted by my two elder brothers.

"Annie, you must win these games," Niall says in a firm, kind of snappy voice. "You need to come home. If you don't come home then this family is ruined. We'd have no victors, and-" the rest of my family, including me, glare at him. This is not the time to talk about the whole Cresta family reputation, thank you very much Mr Niall Cresta. "And... we love you." he finishes to satisfy my father. I turn to him, avoiding eye contact so that we avoid tears, and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

"You need to show them what you can do, Annie, in training," he tells me. He doesn't speak quickly, but in a calm voice. "You need to get a high score – at least a nine – and then you'll get sponsors. Show them yourself and yourself only. You're a nice enough person so you don't need to act for the camera like many of the other tributes will. Be yourself and you'll get one thing off your mind in the arena. Acting costs lives. Try not to appear like a celebrity as the rest of the tributes will want to get rid of you. That little girl from One last year, remember her? The one who wore all the glittery stuff? Everyone hated her. They wanted to get rid of her. She was stealing all of the sponsors from them, so of course she was going to win. Everyone hunted her down and she was dead in less than a day. Don't be her." He suddenly looks like he's remembered something, reaches into his pocket and comes out with a straw bracelet. It's worn and the casp is a bit rusty, but otherwise it's beautiful. He ties it around my wrist.

"Was it mum's?" I ask, expecting him to mention mum sooner or later. He shakes his head. I'm suprised. "Where's it from then?"

"I made it," he says. "It was for mum. For her birthday this year. I made it ages ago, perhaps the day we first met." I'm taken aback. I nod a thanks. For the next few minutes we exchange goodbyes, until the peacekeeper returns to take them away. They take it well – no struggling or shouting, just leaving like they're told to. I walk over to the window and take in what may possibly be my last few minutes looking at this square. I haven't got any more visitors. I have no friends, just family.

Or so I thought.

The door opens again and I find myself looking into the eyes of Cassidy White, my neighbour. She's been crying.

"What are you doing here?" I ask thoughtlessly, then feel angry at myself for being so rude to her.

"To say goodbye," she says blunty. "I thought you needed a friend to come and see you." I look away.

"But I don't have any friends!" I protest. She comes to stand next to me.

"Yes, you do," she says calmly. "You have me. _I'm_ your friend. It doesn't seem like it, but I am." I ignore her. She sighs and looks at woven straw my bracelet.

"That's nice," she says. "I wish I could afford something like that."

"Oh," I say. "Thank... er... thank you. And my dad made it." she pulls a slightly comfused face. I laugh. "Yep, men making bracelets. He must've been bored." She smiles a bit, but I know there's something wrong.

"I don't have a dad," she goes on. "Or a mum." I stare at her. She nods at me and I give her a sympathetic look. "She died last Friday. Don't really know how – I was at school."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't know."

"No one does. I'm not being sent to that orphanage. I'm sixteen – I can fend for myself."

"But you'll starve!" I cry out. She holds a finger to her lips.

"I know I will," she whispers. "But I'd rather die than be known an orphan. I can ask for terressae – they know I've been asking for it before so they won't be suspicious if I only get it once in a while."

I stare at her for a while.

"Just do me one more favour, Annie," she tells me quietly. "Go out there and win these games. If you die then I'm dead, for sure. If you die then I have nobody left. Nothing. You're the only one who understands me." I stand there awkwardly.

"OK," I barely mutter those two stupid letters before the equally stupid peacekeeper comes back in the room to take her out. Not too long later I'm taken out myself to endure the taxi ride alongside Libby and Skye. Then we arrive at the train station, which is full to the brim of cameras and people.

Just as we aboad the train I wonder just how many of those people are on my side.


	6. Chapter 6 - Sugar With That?

**Thank you all so so so much for reading my fanfic! I want to let you know just how much I appreciate you reading it! Thanks and please continue reading - I appreciate every single view of this fanfic so much!**

The train is so fast that everything outside it a blur – according to that Capitol freak who also is somehow our escort, Libby Frosté, it goes at around 200 miles per hour. We sit in the large living cart, which is a weird platinum-ish colour, on blue velvet chairs alongside her, and both Skye and I are trying to hold our breath for as long as we can so that we don't inhale the horrific thing which I'm sure could choke us to death. She sits inbetween us – me right by the window – so we have no escape from her. We don't even know where our rooms are yet so we can't disappear off to them, not like we could get away with that anyway.

About an hour into the train journey, our two mentors (Finnick Odair to my disappointment, and also an elderly victor called Mags Cohen who seems quite nice – she won the games in the first decade of them going on and is now in her mid-seventies) come to greet us. Libby does the introductions, and I can see Finnick rolling his eyes at us.

"You four get to know eachother then!" she says excitedly. "I'm just off to my room to-"

"To take your perfume off?" Finnick interrupts. "Or to put more on? Because, darling, I think you are half killing our two tributes here with this, and your killing me too. This is not a fashion show but a very serious matter from my past experience." He winks at her. Libby storms off in anger, muttering to herself. I manage a smile, as does Skye.

"I appreciate that a lot," I tell him once she's out of earshot. He laughs.

"No problem! Just wait until you get to the Capitol. I'm used to it, but you might need to wear a gas mask," I like his sense of humour. "OK, so... first test: what are our names?" Ha, test. What a stupid little test this is! 

"Finnick Odair and Mags Cohen," Skye says in a bored voice. "Questrion two?" Finnick grins one of his creepy grins.

"So... have you guys trained?" he asks us. We both nod. "What are your preferred weapons then?" Skye gets into it straight away.

"Oh, I love the combat ones," he says confidently. "Blades especially. All up close for me." Finnick and Mags nod in approval before looking at me for my answer.

"Knife throwing," I say. "All long distance from me."

"So an aggressive one and a sneaky one," he says thoughtfully. "Are you... good?" Skye, again, is first to answer. He is very into it.

"Well I don't know – I haven't killed anyone yet as I haven't been allowed, but I reckon I could,"

"Annie?" Finnick questions me.

"I hit the kill target most of the time, and when I don't I never miss the actual person," I say, trying not so sound full of myself. I actually always hit the kill target have have missed once or twice, and I don't know what I'll be like with real people. My description of my abilities seems good enough for our two mentors.

"So," Skye says. "What's the plan for the arena?" Wow – he's into it.

"Bloodbath," Finnick starts. "Be part of it. You'll want to be with the ones from One and Two – which are usually willing to accept the Careers from District Four. They'll keep you safe for that battle. We'll have a look at who they actually are when the reapings are broadcast live across Panem later."

"Then what?"

"We will discuss that later, Skye," he says, getting up and making his way to what looks like a coffee machine, positioned on one of the work surfaces. "You guys hungry?" I nod, as does Skye and Mags.

"Erm... a coffee please," I ask, feeling a bit awkward since he left half way through our tactics discussion to help himself to food when there were plenty of Avoxes around to do that for us. Mags asks for a coffee too, but Skye resists.

"I've never liked coffee," he tells me when I narrow my eyebrows in a questioning way. I love coffee. "It's so bitter."

"Not if you put sugar cubes in it," Finnick chirps. "Annie, do you like sugar in your coffee?" I can't resist – sugar is a luxury at home so I don't put it in hot drinks, only cakes and bread. But I love it anyway, and we're going to be dead in a few weeks so you might as well take it all now.

"Six please" I say, cheerfully. I _love _sugar and I _love_ coffee, so I love love _love_ coffee with sugar cubes.

"Anything to eat with that sugary coffee, Miss Cresta?" he asks me cheekily.

"A nice, sugary cake please," he grabs a blue one. Weird Capitol food. It actually taste very nice, especially with a sweet instant coffee. Skye looks at me as if I'm crazy, but I can tell that he finds it hilarious how sugar-mad I am.

We both fall around like laughing stocks. Who would think that we were being sent off to die and would be having funerals in a few weeks?


	7. Chapter 7 - Alliances

**I have had to rewrite this chapter – I did it yesterday, but just as I was about to upload it it went silly and into all hashtags – ############ to all my hard work! So annoying.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

The reapings are broadcast live across Panem for everyone to see. In the Capitol it's an insight to the betting and sponsors. For the tributes and mentors it's an insight to who to form an alliance with and who to watch out for. For the rest of Panem, it's nothing too important, even if we do have to watch it. Oh yeah – for the family and friends of the reaped tributes it's an insight to who will kill their kids. The Career districts of One, Two and Four usually have volunteers, but it's extremely rare for that to happen in the "outskirt" districts. Occasionally we have a volunteer from District Seven because they can actually get pretty good with an axe; they're industry in lumber so they've been brought up around the tree and head cutting weapon. I'd say that they're the most successful districts in the games other than us three Career ones. Twelve never win – there have been two victors from there and the last one was twenty years ago. Two has around twenty victors, we have thirteen. One's beating us by one extra victor on fourteen.

The atmosphere living cart is tense. Even a small noise makes me jump a little. I'm sat on Skye's left on one of the settees, with both of our mentors and the Capitol weirdo on the other. The screen isn't massive but it's bigger than the one we have at home, and much better quality too. Of course it is; it's from the Capitol. _Everything_ is good quality in the Capitol.

The reapings start in District One, where it is raining. It's quite a mountainous district, being near the Capitol. I can't help but smirk as the camera takes in the interesting sight of soaking wet teenagers and peacekeepers, and then their escort dressed immaculately with a huge pink umbrella which matches her hair. She seems cheerful despite the fact that it rained on her big day – she takes twice as long greeting the crowd as she's so busy explaining the weather at that very point in time. After a long speech she moves straight onto the girls. Suprisingly, there are no volunteers.

"Rosanna Florance," she says cheerfully. A soaking wet girl, probably around thirteen or fourteen years old due to her size and not dressed too nicely for the occasion, comes out and is escorted to the stage. She looks confident, just a bit grumpy about the weather. Onto the boys, and still no volunteers. I can see that everyone is taken aback when he is reaped. Is name is Ivan Florance and I'm guessing that him and the female tribute are related in some way, seeing as the girl looks like she will either faint or have a panic attack. Just before we see whether she does, the screen switches to District Two, which has dryer weather. Both tributes are volunteers so obviously Careers – the girl, called Bellicose, looks around seventeen and the boy appear around eighteen and is called Chase. They look really strong – both have a muscular build and have obviously trained. Trying to work out their weapons, they both looks like they do combat over long distance. District Three is normal – two terrified-looking kids in their mid-teens. Us from Four look good enough. No one else stands out – no volunteers, just terrified-looking, reaped kids. The screen flicks off.

"Who do we go with, then?" Skye asks, extremely into it.

"Slow down, Skye," Finnick replies. "Whoever you want out of who wants you. The Careers look good. Both from Two look tough but somehow I think they'd like you two to go with them. One looks trustable."

"Anyone else?" I ask. Finnick looks at me seriously.

"Unless anyone really stands out – and when I say really, I mean if they are amazing – in training, I don't want the alliance to be much bigger. You need to be able to keep an eye on everyone, just in case they try to kill you. And you have to say goodbye at some point," I nod understandably. I don't fancy sharing the supplies out between ten people.

"Sure," I tell him solomnly. "So six is the maximum?" He shrugs and nods at the same time.

"OK," I reply bluntly. "Who do you want, Skye?"

"Definitely both from Two," he tells me surely. "They look great. Probably both from One aswell. The guy looks just as good as the one from Two, but the girl looks a bit... unsure of it all. She's not very big or heavy-looking, so I doubt she's very old at all." I nod in acceptance.

"She could just be a murderer in disguise," Finnick points out. "You get loads of those. Such as... me." We sit for a while in silence. I stare at the blur outside, in a bit of a daze. I wonder what my family are doing. Who do they want me to be allies with? I barely notice that an hour and a half passes and just Finnick and I are left in the living area. Until he asks me why I think so much.

"I don't know," I tell him. "I just think about family, really. Nothing interesting at all."

"Did they come to say goodbye to you?" Stupid question. Obviously. I'm not a loner.

"My dad and two brothers came," I say. "They're eighteen. Twins." Finnick nods as if to ask about my mum.

"My mum died last year," I tell him. "This dress is hers. What she wore to the 50th Hunger Games reaping. This bracelet it meant to be hers, but she died before she got it."

"I'm sorry," Finnicks says sympathetically.

"It's okay," I say, feeling awkward that a Capitol pawn star is feeling sorry for me because my mum died of a disease. So I change the subject. "How much further to the Capitol?" I ask.

"We'll be there in the morning, at eight. Be prepared for hundreds of Libbys." I laugh, even though I'm half dreading the smell of perfume. Urgh.

"Does it smell like...?" I don't need to finish my sentence.

"At first," he says. "But not inside the tributes centre. No perfume there. Possibly at the parade and definitely at the interviews, though. It's not as bad as you think it will be. If you're wide awake then you don't get such a shock. And on that note... go to bed!"

So I do.


	8. Chapter 8 - First Impressions

**Here's chapter eight then, quite a short chapter but I don't want to put so much into it because otherwise it would be very boring and I think the whole remake thing would go down better in the next chapter... which will be the tribute parade! Anyway, enjoy and I'm sorry because I can't write good dreams – never needed to do it before so this is the first dream I have ever written!**

It's a desert. The arena's a desert. I am sweating like a pig, half dehydrated even though I haven't been in there for half a minute. Why a desert? It's so hot. I can barely stand up on my pedestal, but everyone else is ready to run. How come I am so weak? Everyone else, even the District Eight tributes who were brought up in a snowy climate, are fine. I feel sick. The count down is suddenly at six.

Five...

Four...

Three...

Two...

One...

There's a loud knock. The orange sand fades silently into brown, varnished wood. I'm not stood up on a solid steel pedestal, but sat down on comfy white mattress. I'm in my room, not the arena. It was all just a dream. Just a dream...

There is another knock on my room. Libby opens it, dressed perfectly for an early hour.

"Annie, dear," she pierces the empty silence of my room, perfume ruining the plain air. "We're almost at the Captiol. Chop chop, get dressed, then meet us in cart four for breakfast." I nod and look at the ticking black wall clock. Only half four in the morning! I must've had only five hours of sleep! I feel tired, but hungry. I take off my thin pyjamas and wash and dress into a pair of grey trousers and a black long sleeved top, slipping on a pair of black boots, before walking down the row of carts on the train towards cart four, where everyone is already eating. I sit down next to Mags and help myself to two slices of white bread. I don't like the look of any of the extra substances of the table, so eat it plain. In the end, I'm tempted into a chicken liver pâté which turns out to be very nice, and help myself to some weird shaped flakes drizzled with honey, with nuts on. If the Capitol do this nice a food all the time then maybe I'll let them off with their horrid perfume. It's a little dark outside still, but I can see the sun rising over the peaks of the Rockies.

"We're here!" Libby announced excitably, jumping up out of her seat and heading towards the window. I walk over slowly, not really wanting to look interested infront of Finnick, Mags and Skye but still wanting to have a look at the actual Capitol. It's impressive – very silver but over than that it's a lot like a normal district, except more urban and much richer. On TV it just looks like a weird big city with loads of fancily dressed people and men who look like women and vice versa. Without that OTT fashion, it would be so much more attractive to everyone. Sure, it's a bit scented, but that smell wouldn't be there if there if these crazy people weren't here and it was just normal people, like us, who worked out long ago that perfume was an unnecessary luxury which would just leave us with a smaller amount of food. The train slows until outside is no longer a huge blur of silver, but a clear image of brightly coloured people. They're going loopy to see us, so I can barely not wave. After all, these are the people who are going to be sponsoring us and cheering us on. First impressions are always a good idea, but the best idea out there if you are going to be sent into the arena of death.


	9. Chapter 9 - Parades

**I apologise for the completely random bits in this chapter which are completely irrelevent to the whole fanfiction. But anyway, thank you so much everyone who is reading this, I'd really love to hear your feedback as it really makes my day and gives me an insight into what you'd like to see and your views on my writing! I put as much time as I can into this so some reviews saying if you like it or not! It will only help me! Thank you!**

After a short time in the tribute's remake centre I am taken into a room. I sit down in the soft armchair and wait for my stylist – who is late. After about an hour of me sitting there, bored, the silver medal door swings open and in bursts an excitable woman with a tall pink curly wig and a tutu. Great – I've got _that_ sort of Capitol person. Why the _heck_ couldn't I have had someone more realistic than that.

"Hello!" she says excitably in that annoying Capitol accent. "I am Florence Gavinchi and I am your stylist!" I nod and try to smile, feeling awkward. I _like _the games, but being overly excited about everything which is to do with the games but _not_ the games is a bit crazy to me. All of this rubbish before is a waste of time – just put us in the arena clothes and push us in! It's their own fault if they don't know survival skills, and it's better for us districts who do. I suppose that the victory tour is alright, because victors saying speeches apologising to their dead tributes is kind of nice I must admit. But all the Capitol rubbish is nothing important at all – it makes us rich and famous for a couple of days before we fight to our death. Sometimes stylists make the tributes look amazing so they get so many sponsors and leave the rest of the tributes feeling a bit left out and like losers, and the "more famous" tributes get to see their death first. Which is exactly why I really hope that I'm more normal. No flashy stuff please, just a normal interview outfit and something which won't make us the stars of the tribute parade.

"You and Skye are going to be little fishies for the tribute parade!" she says enthusiastically. So I'm going to wear a stupid fish outfit. Great. Just what I wanted. Adding to that, she can quit babying us – we're sixteen and eighteen, not six and eight. And even six and eight year olds would not find this treatment alright.

It turns out that the fish costume is actually less fishy than I expected. We wear a bit of silverish blue and some nets, so we're more like half-dead and unhabppy caught fish than alive, swimming, happy fish, which I'm more than happy with. I wear a pair of metallic blue leggings and a top which has a diagonal cut on the right side with a silver, glittery fishnet across my right side. I wear dark eye liner but other than that and some silver eye shadow there's no make-up to be seen and my hair is in a loose fishtail braid. Skye looks great in his loose-fitting trousers of the same colour and he's _topless_. Maybe Florence is alright then – he seems impresed. I'm not dreading the interview outfit half as much as I was originally now. The babying is quite silly, but at least she can do her job! I might possibly be actually _looking forward_ to this parade.

It's dark outside this year – sometimes the time of the parade varies, and last year it was in broad daylight, but this year it's being held at nine at night. Apparently the Capitol looks incredible at night (what Finnick said, anyway). At first I don't know whether or not to believe him, but when I step out of the elevator into the carriage way I am proved right. I walk, stunned silent by the sheer beauty of a place where I have grown up l loathing, and lean against one of my horses in awe. He's a massive black creature decorated with white roses, matching the rest in the square. I completely forgot about the horses. I _love_ horses just as much as I love swimming. We have a couple back home in District Four and I have never really thought about them since yesterday. I whisper in his ear, so lost in the sweet natural smell of horse. It's the first thing here which isn't artificial. I barely notice Skye as he walks up, causing me to jump.

"So you like horses, huh?" he says suddenly, standing right by the magnificent creatures head. That's the first time I've actually spoken to him and the first time he's sounded anything but grumpy.

"You look great," I blurt out, completely unsure what to wear.

"You too," he tells me. "Please answer my question in the future. So, do you like horses?"

"Yeah," I say, trying not to sound like I like them as much as I actually do. "Only proper things here. Everything else is... fake."

"So our clothes are fake," he says. I like his sense of humour.

"Well... they're not the nicest things ever," I admit, with a smile. He smiles back.

"I think they're nice enough to make us look good enough. District Twelve are naked this year," I can't help laughing.

"What?!"

"They're stylist spraypainted them black. No clothes,"

"What about the rest of them?" I ask curiously.

"They're ok,"

"Glad to hear it," I say, quickly looking around the room. One and Two look good - very metallic in the Career districts this year then. Seven looks like trees. The rest look decent enough. "Except I don't think the horse likes your outfit very much."

"So you can now read horses' minds," he says sarcastically.

"It's not rocket science," I say. "His ears are flat back. He's angry." Just as Skye looks around the horse turns to nip him on the back side. He gives a little squeal and jumps away quickly.

"You were right," he says. "Well done. We have an animal tamer in this arena then."

"Animals in the arena will be there for us to eat and for them to eat us, so I don't take the job," Skye looks as if he's going to say something but we are interrupted by someone telling us to mount our carriages. A couple of minutes later the anthem plays and the horses move forwards. It's not too hard, this parading, because all I really need to do is smile and wave. Then there's a boring, long speech from President Snow, then we are paraded back into the carriageway where we are smothered in well dones. It isn't hard. They should really try doing it one day. Finnick then walks over, accompanied by victor of the 64th Hunger Games, Cashmere, and her tributes.

"This is Cashmere," Finnick tells us as Cashmere smiles. "We just wanted to introduce you four tributes to eachother quickly. Annie and Skye, this is Rosanna and Ivan. Rosanna and Ivan this is Annie and Skye." I smile at them and me and Skye shake hands with Ivan. Rosanna stays in the background but gives us a quick smile. I smile back.

"You can get to know eachother better in training tomorrow. I was just about to chase up District Two but it looks like Brutus has taken them back to their apartment. For now, I must really be going." I can see Cashmere sigh and give Finnick a look, and he gives her a sympathetic one back. "I'll see you guys later then." We take the lift back to our apartment where we sit around silent for a while before eating dinner, where Libby (who has obviously just met up with her Capitol friends) can't stop talking. The food is nice but I'm not really hungry – strange seeing as I'm always starving and haven't eaten much today. I manage some meat and a slice of cake but that's all.

"See you tomorrow," I say, getting up as Skye helps himself to his fifth slice of chocolate torte.

"You're going to _bed_?" Finnick says, sounding suprised. "_Now_?" I nod.

"I need some sleep. I didn't get much last night and I'm really tired," I say. Sounds like a lie, but it really is the truth. "Bye." What is really strange is that I feel exhausted but it takes me until every door has shut and every light has been switched off (presumably) to get to sleep. Eventually I drift off into a dreamless sleep. Eventually...


	10. Chapter 10 - Training Day One

**Sorry for the delay... the stupid teachers have piled homework on us suddenly and I was away this weekend.**

**Anyway – enjoy this chapter and I will try to be back on track with this soon! And thank you for all the great reviews!**

We're one of the first to arrive to training day one, after districts Seven and Eight. I try to catch their facial expressions and can clearly see that all but the boy from District Seven look hopeless, which they probably are. The boy from Seven looks like he thinks that he is a Career, when he actually isn't and is probably fourteen years old. I try to just stay chilled as we wait for the rest of the tributes to come, which takes around half an hour. Suprisingly, the last district to arrive is Two, but from how fed up they look I can tell that neither wanted to get up this morning and Brutus had to drag them up here or something. They'll wake up soon enough. The head trainer, a woman called Atala, discusses what we should and shouldn't do. There are four compulsary exercises but the rest you can do at your own choosing. I roughly plan out in my head what I'm going to do when – the compulsary ones will be whenever the stations are empty. I want to have a go at fire starting again as that was always my weak spot back home (I haven't done it since I was like ten anyway), and use the weapons as they'll most likely be different to the old ones we have back at the academy. My best (and favourite) skill is knife throwing and I can hit the target bullseye 99.9% of the time and when I don't hit bullseye I'm never far off.

"Remember, no fighting with the other tributes," Atala tells us sternly. "There'll be plenty of time for that in the arena."

As soon as she blows the whistle for us to start I head off in the direction of knives. I'm first there but soon joined by the boy from District Three and the boy from District Two. The boy from Two is great, but it obviously isn't his main weapon. The boy from Three is useless to put it short. He doesn't hit the "person" a single time in the three hours which he trains with it. I am only there for an hour, as I move onto the fire lighting station soon enough. Suprisingly, I am actually alright at it, but the trainer is strict so I have to work hard there. I then move onto some endurance work, which is a little more laid back but only just bearable; I am much more of a sprinter than a long distance runner.

At midday the whistle blows to announce lunch, and by then I just want a shower and to go back to bed. I queue up by the cafeteria, kind of dreading what we will be eating from what I have seen of Capitol food already. It turns out to be a steak and chips, without any artificial extras (thank the lord!). I have barely got my meal before Skye walks up to me.

"We're sitting with One and Two," he says. I catch his eye then look away with awkwardness, half because I don't really know what expression I am pulling right now and half because I don't know whether it's alright to do that yet. I have slight trust issues.

"Sure," I say, heading off to the table at the bottom of the long hall. All but one seat is taken, and that seat is right between to the boy from Two (Chase) and Skye. They greet me, but they continue to chat away about... something. Eventually Chase asks everyone what their preferred weapons are.

"Blades," Skye says immediately. "Especially swords." Exactly what Ivan likes. Chase also agrees, adding a spear on to the list.

"I'm alright with knives but not perfect," he confesses reluctantly.

"Annie's great with a throwing knives," Skye blurts out. I give him that look, then decide to follow on with a more descriptive answer, knowing that the rest of the group are looking at me.

"Oh, I'm okay," I say modestly. "I usually hit the target."

"Actually you're a lot better than okay," Chase says. How does _he_ know? Oh yeah – he was by me a training. "You're amazing. Really." I can feel myself blushing. Bellicose is next to speak.

"I also like knives," she says. "I'm pretty good at throwing them, if I say so myself. _And_ I'm alright under pressure. I like to use them in combat too. Swords are my strongest point other knives. _Never_ a bow." I can tell that she wants to be the centre of attention, as she looks a little jealous at the fact that her district partner is taking an interest in my knives.

"I'm alright with a bow," Rosanna says. "I usually hit the target. I can load quickly enough too."

"Great," Chase says, eyeing us slightly. "What about survival skills?" I'm not incredible. My fires are good and I know basic first aid and that you shouldn't eat nightlock, but anything beyond that and I'm dead in a minute. Thank god both from One are great, according to Ivan. Chase nor Bellicose sound too pleased at the subject, hinting that they're equal with me.

"We're relying on you for our lives _out_ of battle, then," Bellicose says, and I catch her looking at Rosanna in a funny way. I don't think I'll get involved in that. Ivan changes the subject to the food we are eating.

"Did any of you have this food before?"

"Yeah, sometimes," Chase says. Bellicose has eaten it before aswell. "You?"

"Yeah," Ivan says. So has Skye. I had it once when I was five or something and it wasn't cooked properly and it put me off it since, but the Capitol steak is nice. After a bit of smalltalk we get more involved in eachother and our confidence grows. Chase, Ivan and Rosanna are really friendly and Bel (she doesn't like the name "Bellicose" much as I soon discovered) is nice but likes to challenge others with their lives, and there's a part of her which constantly says "I dare you". The whistle to continue training blows soon after and I decide to try out some archery – which I suppose I'm alright at after all.

"Hey," I hear a voice behind my back. I spin around, startled. It's Rosanna. I smile but get back to my archery seconds later.

"Your technique is all wrong," she says. "Pull the bow back stronger and the shoot will be stronger."

"You're so good," I mutter, putting my bow down having decided to go and try something else.

"You're alright," she says. "You hit the target ninety percent of the time, just not very strongly. Let me-" she loads another arrow and pulls the string back. Bullseye.

"You go." This time it makes a louder bang of the boards, even though it's kind of off target.

"See?" she says. I thank her.

"I'm sorry you were reaped with Ivan," I say thoughtlessly. Silence.

"I couldn't do anything," she says sadly. "No one volunteered. My parents don't care about me anyway, so I might as well just die in there."

"Don't say that!" I say in shock horror. "Of course they care." Rosanna shrugs.

"They never wanted me," she says under her breath but loud enough for my to hear.

"How old are you, anyway?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Ivan and I are sixteen. You?" I am taken aback. Wow! Rosanna's tiny for her age – she looks like a thirteen year old!

"Oh, erm, I'm sixteen too,"

"And you're Annie Cresta?"

"Yes,"

"Cool," she says as she hold her hand out for me to shake. "Rose Florance."

She walks of towards another station, leaving me wondering what she meant by her parents not caring about her in the arena.

**Random Annie/Rose conversation there, just wanted to give you an insight into one of her allies and it seemed suitable for that to be on the first day of training! Thanks for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11 - Last Night Of Safety

**You can probably tell how much I just want them to get into the arena here – I didn't want to have massive chapters explaining every single tiny detail about every single tribute and every single event, so I decided to put them all in here so the arena part comes closer... I am already planning those chapters. For now, just enjoy this one!**

As the week goes by, I managed to learn more about the other tributes – most of it by stalking, obviously. Why would I go and ask a District Twelve girl about her life? That's just strange. Yes, so I stalk the tributes I'm not in an alliance with and chat to the ones I am in an alliance with. I'm in the Career pack alongside Ivan, Rose, Chase, Bel and Skye. For those from One and Two, we can see eachother at training and at night, but Skye and I are always having a conversation back at our area. Dinner is a laughing matter with all of us joking at the same time (except sophisticated Libby, who describes us like old friends, when we've only known eachother for a week or so). It makes me realise just how hard it will be in the arena. My district partner is one of my only friends besides Cassidy back home. Is she still alive, starving at home? Have peacekeepers killed her yet? Has she finally decided to let the couple of years left of her childhood be spent in an orphanage? I wonder about her so much. I might even be friends with my allies, perhaps. Rose is secretive and most likely has issues, but I reckon she's hiding so much behind her young-looking face and is quietly, perhaps silently confident. Ivan is confident and friendly, but obviously looks out for his sister who I still can't believe is his twin – yes they look alike but they're so different in build. Even Bel and Chase from District Two have gained on me. Bel is by far the most competitive and want to do everything better than anyone else, and is very challenging. Chase is similar but obviously caring. Two days before we're due into the arena we get assessed for one skill we can use in the arena. I choose knife throwing, and I get bullseye on all of the targets, leaving me with a respectable score of ten, which I'm please about. Skye and Rose also get tens, and Bel and Chase get elevens (they'll be happy about that). Ivan gets a nine, which is mostly likely due to sheer nerves as I have seen him fight and he's probably the best of the pack with a sword. Everyone else gets sixes or below – the lowest is a two from the boy from Eight and I guess I feel kind of sorry for the poor lad. The boy from Seven gets an seven, but I'm guessing he scraped that for axe throwing and combat because he's better than most outskirt district tributes but not as good as us Career (and yes I am biased but it is true; we are the best).

The next evening is the interviews. My stylist, Florence, does an excellent job just as she did for the parade, and I'm given the most beautiful white dress and a pair of silver high heels which are decorated with flowers. Skye looks great in his black and white suit aswell. The interview starts at around 10pm and the first on in Rose, who chose to show off how quick-witted she was, leaving the audience in fits of laughter. Ivan angled towards being positive and confident. Bel was secretive and when she was asked about her plans for the arena she simply replied, "that is for me to show and you to find out." Chase dared Caeser and the audience with his rhetorical questions, but also had a good laugh. After him was me.

I walked onto the stage quietly, smiling at the brightly coloured crowds as I sat down.

"Annie, Annie, Annie," Caeser said to me as I smiled at him. "My, you look fantastic today!"

"Yes, Caesar," I reply. "My stylist is incredible. She's really does know how to make a normal District Four girl into a bit of a celebrity, don't you agree?"

"I must say her work is incredible," he says. I nod. "So, Annie, have you worked out any alliances for this year?"

"Yes," I say.

"Tell us more," he says, engrossed in what I'm telling him. I wonder whether I should just say it all. "Will is be the usual Career pack alliance? You all got very good scores in training, so I suspect that you'll be teaming up."

"We will," I say. "We get on well enough, so I reckon it will work well for the earlier stages of the games."

"Well, it usually does," he says.

"Usually," I say. "But I have no experience of that, because I've never been in the games before or I'd be victor and not allowed in there." The audience and Caeser love my bad sense of humour.

"What do your family think of this?" is his next question.

"Well, they're all very proud of me," I say. "Really. My twin brothers wanted to go in but they're happy enough for their little sister to do the family proud. My mum died last year, and she'd be just as proud as them and my dad."

"Well, good job Skye volunteered or it may have ended up like what did in District One this year." I feel myself hot up big-time. How _dare_ he mention Rose and Ivan's story as a _joke_?! They _love_ eachother, _neither_ want to die and it's no laughing matter. I try to keep my calm and my mouth shut, so nod instead, faking a smile for me cameras.

"Now, have you got any plans that you'd like to share with us?" he asks.

"Yes, obviously," I say, reflecting on what Bel said. "But there's nothing for you to hear _just_ yet.. Wait and see." Caeser looks like he's going to question me but the timer goes, thank god.

"Well, that's time up. Good luck for the arena and I hope to see you back again here, you as victor," I exit the stage, hi-fiving Skye as he walks up the steps for his interview. I'm very pleased with how my interview went. Finnick and Libby and I chat for the whole duration of Skye's interview about how it went. Skye's also goes well.

"Well, I believe I have to go now," Libby says suddenly.

"You're... leaving?" I ask. "_Now?_" Libby nods, looking scarcely sad.

"Yes, Annie," she says. She turns to us all. "This is goodbye, for now anyway. But I will be rooting for both of you. And I hope I will see you again soon, after the games. One of you, anyway. As victor." this sets her off in tears, as she walks off after hugging all of us. I thank her. Skye and I take the lift up to our room in silence (Finnick has duties and Mags has already taken the train home due to an illness she got in the Capitol). Once we're in, the words hit me. _One of you, anyway._ Only one of us can come out with our life. The other is dead and not coming back. Maybe even both of us are dead and someone else comes out alive. I sit on the sofa, head in hands, and cry. Skye tries to make me feel better, making me a coffee and trying to cheer me up, but it's no use. This is the last night I'm safe. Tomorrow I might die. Tomorrow I might kill. Tonight is the last night I'm not a murderer. I tell Skye but he says I'm not a murderer for killing in the games. Murder is illegal. The games is legal, killing is legal in the games. More than legal. We're supposed to kill in there. It's no use. I cry the whole time I'm getting ready for bet, and I cry myself to sleep, wondering how many other floors are experiencing what I'm going through.

Tomorrow I am going into that arena. And I am prepared, but scared.


	12. Chapter 12 - You Will Survive

**Almost at the games! I'm really sorry I couldn't post this sooner and I hate how short this chapter is but that is how it is.**

We're allowed a lie in today, so I take the opportunity because a) I really don't feel like eating breakfast and just skipping to lunch and b) I probably will never have another lie in the short rest of my life. I eventually get up at just past midday, and stumble across the floor to the dining quarters for lunch. I immediately know what they're on about. Tactics. Finnick looks up and smiles at me with that creepy Finnick smile.

"Y'alright Annie," he says, his District Four accent really coming together here. I nod and take a seat opposite him. I manage a smile at both of them. "Do you want anything to eat?" I don't answer but it's obvious to anyone that I do, probably because of my "I'm hungry" facial expression. An Avox brings me some bread and some meat. I eat it whilst Finnick tells us what to do. From what I've heard just now, the plan seems decent enough for us to stay alive.

"You _must_ be in the bloodbath," Finnick says, the urgency in his voice not to be ignored. I nod. "You need to fight. Show them what you can do, because you _can_ do it. Scare people. _Impress_ them." I don't know whether to be alarmed or act normal, so I just nod, and I'm relieved to see that Skye is also nodding.

"Don't use long distance weapons, apart from knives if you are desperate, in the bloodbath," he adds.

"But-" I can't use blades!

"Just don't," he says, not accepting any excuse. "How long does it take to load a bow? Just use a sword or a spear or a trident or whatever you want to use _except_ a bow or knives or similar how you would expect to use it. It's not rocket science."

"You can do it," Skye mutters to me. I try to reject but Finnick cuts me off. _Again_.

"Yes, Annie, you can," he says in a voice which is only being used to show me how bored he is of my rejections. "And you are going to use a blade. And you aren't going to get yourself killed." Really now? That's a lot to ask for for. I have to find some knives and a bow and keep them to myself whilst using a weapon whilst staying alive. Lets just see how that goes then. Moving on...

"Secondly, Annie," he tells me. "You will stay alive." Knew it. That's not rocket science, so he moves on just incase I think of an excuse before.

"You will kill people," he says to both of us. "No chickening or you'll get yourself killed. Killing really is not that bad. Lets just put it as you will be getting them away from the wonders or hunger, dehydration and muttations. You're probably good at it, so just kill or at least try to kill someone."

"Anything else?" Skye asks.

"Yes," Finnick says. I can immediately tell that it's not too serious. "Both of you can shut up and eat as much food as possible between now and the games."

Told you.


End file.
